Pleasant memories

I can connect my iPhone to my car (auxiliary port) and listen to songs that I got from iTunes. This feature, once again made me marvel at cloud computing (as a little note, I must mention my great grandmother, who on first seeing a nail clipper was so amused that she reflected - কী কল ই না বানিয়েছে সাহেবরা) Going by the same note, I downloaded a bunch of Debabrata Biswas's and Hemanta's songs to my iPhone (as an iPod) and felt very happy. Now I don't have to carry a bunch of old cd-s in my car, nor would I have to fumble through them while driving (disclaimer: I do not do that. I am a very cautious driver.) Anyway, so coming to the actual story, I was listening to that song "nilamwala chha ana" by Hemanta (play backed to Uttam Kumar) on my way back from work when I realized that just the song was making me feel so happy. Was it just the tune and Hemanta's melodious voice? Or was it the comfort zone that Uttam Kumar and the song transcended me to? Those weekend afternoons at home? The elders watching these movies with us pottering around and asking stupid questions...nice snacks made especially during the weekends and the general nice feeling of being with everyone in the family?

Oldies

I have heard and participated in debates on which is better - joint family or nuclear family. The only thing I have to say is - people who have not lived in joint families would *never* understand what they have missed. Also, living in joint families go hand in hand with living in the old ancestral house and that itself is an experience to be cherished through your entire life. I have loads and heaps of pleasant memories associated with The House and The Family. It's not for no reason that we (me, my uncles, cousin, etc.) are renowned for our homesickness. For people who'll ask how I can manage to live here if I am so homesick, my reply would be that it's not just my parents but my uncles, aunts, cousins and my newly added nieces all keep in touch via regular calls, emails and Google chat :-) It would have been too hard on me otherwise. Is there any doubt why I stay at my in-laws for 3 days and my own house for the rest 18 days on my 3 week trip to India? 

The best memory I have is of Saturday afternoons. That was the time when everyone would be at home. We would water the plants, play cricket on the terrace, watch movies and sometimes go to Safari Park (Lions' club park near Lake). Simple things, but those count for big chunks of pleasant memories now that I look back at those days.

Cricket

Another grand thing was watching cricket matches on TV with the entire family huddled in one room. The TV was an old 21" (or may have been smaller) black and white one with only two channels available. But the cheers when India hit boundaries and Sourav Ganguly would bat well, the yells of "BOWLED" when an opponent got dismissed are not possible for me to explain. I have learned cricket in this way the most! Going to watch cricket matches at Eden Gardens was also great. That was the time when players were clad in white and the leather ball was bright red. We would go in the morning, early enough to see the players practising on the pitches at the sides and a fog would hang low. The smell of that fog, with dew drops on the lush green ground, bundling up to stay warm, learning about "High court end" and "Maidan end", finding out the fielding positions, eating oranges out of paper bags and listening to the famous comments of Eden Garden spectators are all intertwined with my cricket memories. Winter in Calcutta and cricket went hand in hand before commercialization of the "noble game" began.

Kali Pujo was another big thing. It started from the day before by "choddo prodeep" or 14 candles lit in dark corners of the house. (Yes, you need an old house for that. A dainty apartment would serve no purpose.) Bhut would sing "himero raate oi gogoner deepguli re" (a famous Tagore song on autumn) as we would roam around the house finding our spotted dark places where ghosts might want to live. We also had to eat 14 leafy greens as a course for lunch. That has got something to do with the 14 ancestral generations, I am not very sure. On the big day, the entire morning would be spent in sunning the fireworks. Then after lunch, Bhut and I would start the "alpona" (rangoli/ floor paint). That would start with nice flowery traditional designs and end with random stuff, even stretching as far as Greek alphabets as we ran out of inspiration. In the evening, when candles were lit all across the front patio(and we do have long, really long patios), the house would be gleaming. More candles were lit on the floor decorations in front of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth while the religious ceremony took place. Then was the time for fireworks! We would all go up to the top terrace and light the stuff. Cheering when the rockets would soar high, boo-ing the canisters that didn't do well and admiring the others that did. Baba, Kakun and Kakabhai would talk about their childhood memories, how they used to make fireworks and who was the subject matter expert of which  firework. After they were all lit, we'd have to wash our hands very well and go to sleep with the sound of crackers bursting in the neighborhood.

That's really a long post, but it did hardly cover a bit of the pleasant memories I have. From flying kites with Basanta-da on Vishwakarma Pujo, celebrating Christmas to Dadabhai's wedding, there's been a lot of things happening. People saying hilarious things, confusion created from no where (like losing our way back from Safari Park and almost being notified as missing children - that should come as another post) are all parts of the days spent in that solid three storied yellow building.